


Set The World On Fire

by Star (docfics)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, rodimus is very sad and a little gay, sort of enemies to friends to lovers too haha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-03-09 17:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18921838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docfics/pseuds/Star
Summary: IDW au where things went differently.The Lost Light returns home and isn’t viciously destroyed by Prowl, Megatron’s second trial goes a little better, Starscream is alive and anyone who desires to is tasked with rebuilding Cybertron.Starscream and Rodimus both want to prove themselves by fixing their planet. And as they work side by side, something starts to burn.





	1. Home Sweet Home?

**Author's Note:**

> The primary ship for this fic is Rodimus/Starscream with some dashes of background Driftrod, and Megastar Drift and Megs both have unique relationships w these two idiots and have to deal with their nonsense.
> 
> As stated I haven’t read every single IDW1 series so be understanding with any mistakes pls <:3c

Cybertron.

 

It had hardly been a deca-cycle since the Lost Light had returned and its inhabitants had stepped onto a world torn apart by Unicron. Optimus Prime was gone, the citizens were doing their best to rebuild—and lo and behold, who was helping to govern once again?

 

Starscream.

 

Everything about the situation made the hole in Rodimus’ spark feel more raw and present. He kicked angrily at a pebble, feeling himself ache for the stars and the exploration of space, and most of all, missing the times--good and bad--he had shared with his crew.

 

Even though they were all on the same planet, everyone felt so very, very far away.

 

“Rodimus?”

 

Well, nearly everyone did.

 

Rodimus turned his head to see Megatron lumbering through the rubble, the warlord’s red eyes dim with exhaustion but somehow still holding the intensity Rodimus knew so well. Breaking their gaze, Rodimus’ optics flickered over the small tracking chip nestled into the collar of the bigger mech’s armor, flickering an indignant red, as if angry at him. It was one of the many results of Megatron’s trial—and one of the few things he knew about. Megatron continuously refused to tell him the details of the trial and the full extent of his punishment, and Rodimus couldn’t figure out why it was being kept from him. Infuriating.

 

And now he had been caught mid-sulk. Rodimus jutted his lip out a bit, crossing his arms.

 

“I’m very busy, Megs. Can’t you tell?” He gestured to the piles of dirt, broken mechanical parts and rocks that littered the space around him. “These pieces aren’t going to dig themselves out of the dirt, y’know.”

 

He wasn’t looking, but he could  _ feel _ Megatron roll his optics at him, heaving a great sigh. Rodimus’ lip protruded some more.

 

“Fine. What is it?” Rodimus grumbled, turning around with growing irritation as Megatron stared down at him, patiently waiting for something. Rodimus assumed this pointed silence was in reference to his attitude. Conceding slightly, he retracted the pout, but refused to uncross his arms. Megatron’s optics rolled once more before he finally spoke.

 

“You’re being summoned to the Council. I believe they want to talk to you about resources, particularly if you spotted any useable energon reserves during our travels—ones we could safely harvest, of course.”

 

Rodimus let out a soft ‘hmph.’ So  _ now  _ mechs were interested in the Lost Light’s grand story—now that it benefited them. “So Prowl really wants to get start—“

 

“Not Prowl,” Megatron cut him off, and his gaze flickered to the side before it came back to Rodimus. “Starscream.”

 

Ah, yes. A mech Rodimus had been successfully avoiding since his arrival back. While most of his and Starscream’s encounters had occurred on the battlefield, rather than off it—Rodimus had quickly learned that everything about Starscream rubbed him the wrong way. The Decepticon’s bossy attitude and constant selfish demands, extreme vanity and distrustful nature…

 

Plus, a stubbornness that made Rodimus uncomfortable with how….familiar it felt.

 

“I’m not going if the meeting isn’t mandatory. And besides, why can’t  _ you  _ go? Co-captain, remember?” The word tasted a little sour on his glossa. He didn’t like it.

 

“It’s not as simple as that, Rodimus. There are certain terms I’ve agreed to as a result of my trial...” Rodimus’ audials perked up as Megatron continued to speak, hoping this would be the moment where they opened up to each other. Megatron would tell him about the trial and Rodimus might just share the creeping loneliness he was feeling...

 

“...But it doesn’t matter, because they specifically asked for you.” Megatron finished, and the hole in Rodimus’ spark chamber seemed to grow. 

 

Why was it like this? Why was everything changing? The connections they had forged seemed to be dwindling away, slipping through his very fingers along with the feelings of happiness they had brought him.

 

Rodimus ground his denta together, feeling a sudden itch to escape the misery of it all, drive away--maybe tear through the wilderness outside of Cybertron to feel something. Even if it was just the wind rushing by his frame.

 

But he didn’t. Drift often said that his stubbornness was both a blessing and a curse--and during this moment, he chose to cling to that instead of the nagging urge to run away.

 

“ _ Fine. _ You just stay here, with your secrets I suddenly can’t know, while I go talk to  _ Prowl _ and your.... sort of ex-conjunx? Four-million-year-long unending fling? You both are weird.” He practically spat out the last weak insult before turning, his frame emitting a series of clinks and chunks as he transformed. Megatron tried to reply, but Rodimus drowned it out by revving his engines and speeding off, leaving the grey mech behind with nothing but exhaust fumes and the rubble spat out from his tires.

 

\---

Arriving at the center of Iacon, Rodimus made his way inside, his gloom still following him like a dark cloud. Quickly peeking into the council room, Rodimus saw no one, and impulsively decided to head to Starscream’s room. Bug the seeker a bit, maybe get a laugh.

 

Starscream’s near-brush with death and return to Cybertron had resulted in a fair amount of chaos. Rodimus hadn’t seen it all, but he’d heard that the only way Starscream managed to stay out of prison forever was  _ Bumblebee, _ of all things. Starscream now worked alongside his savior, oddly compliant and highly invested in fixing Cybertron.

 

Something Rodimus wondered if he truly wanted to do as well. In the several stellar cycles he had been gone, the Lost Light had become his home. Cybertron? Cybertron was a stranger. 

 

Blurr’s bar, suddenly unwelcoming when compared to Swerve’s. The dimly lit, broken streets a far cry from the bright halls and smooth material of his ship. Rodimus sighed, trying to distract his wandering thoughts by looking at the decorated walls of the inner building as he searched for Starscream’s office.

 

When he finally remembered where it was, he didn’t bother knocking. There was a spot on the door that looked like it had once housed a lock, but that had been removed. Probably part of Starscream’s punishment. Either way, it made it easy for him to just waltz on in.

  
Starscream was rifling through a imposing mound of datawork, but upon hearing the door open, he glanced up tiredly to say “I’m not ready yet, Windbl…” before trailing off, his optics narrowing.

 

“Hey.” Rodimus said, keeping his tone nonchalant just to be more annoying. Like ‘hey, I didn’t just walk into your office unannounced with no remorse’ nonchalant.

 

“ _ Excuse me. _ ” Starscream’s voice dripped with annoyance, and Rodimus resisted a smile. Easily rattled, wasn’t he.“I don’t recall asking you to come  _ specifically _ to my office,” the seeker grumbled. 

 

Rodimus simply shrugged and replied, “No one else was in the room. I got bored.”

 

Starscream let out a snort. “So you came to bother me?”

 

“Yeah.” Trying not to smile was becoming hard. Starscream was almost comedic in his irritation.

 

The seeker stood up with a grand swoop of his wings---and whatever he was about to say was lost as that dramatic gesture toppled over a pile of datapads. Rodimus would have tried to catch a few, hilarious as it was, but they all clattered noisily in Starscream’s direction, causing the seeker to growl in frustration. 

 

It was at this moment that they both got a mutual comm from Windblade, letting them know she and Prowl were in the meeting room.

 

“Pfft, okay. Here, let me…” Rodimus started to offer, but Starscream whipped a servo up, directing a nasty glare in his direction.

 

“ _ I have it. _ ” He hissed, and Rodimus held his servos up in surrender, biting his lip to keep from laughing as Starscream began to clamber around, swiping up datapads. Rodimus felt a  _ little _ bad--not much, but enough to stay out of the way.

 

As Starscream turned away from him to continue cleaning, Rodimus’ gaze drifted around the room. When nothing caught his interest, his optics settled back on the most distracting thing in the office—the flashy seeker furiously piling datapads back onto the table. 

 

It was then that Rodimus realized he had never taken a good, long look at Starscream. Most of their encounters had been on the field, during battle—and the last solid chunk of time they had spent in somewhat close proximity was Megatron’s first trial. And between Rodimus’ own distractions and Starscream’s ridiculous getup, there just wasn’t any room for much beyond a few insults.

 

As Rodimus examined the seeker, he realized that he had never processed just how incredibly bright and well kept Starscream’s armor was. The seeker’s vanity kept his age and experiences well hidden behind frequent frame changes and plentiful layers of paint, but Rodimus realized that his current frame was very similar to the one he had first seen on the battlefield, millions of years ago…

 

But there were obvious differences. Lines of red decorating once plain white, a more detailed helm and a wider chassis. Starscream’s frame was less bulky now, more curves and fine details that fitted his current lifestyle, constantly in the spotlight.. Rodimus’ optics trailed over cherry red thigh armor molded over white, and suddenly realized he was, for lack of a better word,  _ admiring _ Starscream.

 

The realization hit him like a truck (or some other heavy alt mode) and the noise of disgust he made was loud enough that Starscream snapped his head back, scowling at Rodimus.

 

“What in the pit was that?”

 

Rodimus’ processor spun for a moment as it fought for an excuse, before stupidly settling on “Nothing.” However, Starscream continued to stare at him, and he suddenly felt defensive.

 

“Y’know, could have been my vents clearing. It’s  _ dusty  _ in here, Starscream. When’s the last time you cleaned? I mean, come on…” He waved at the desk, piled high with datapads and trinkets. “Maybe you’d be done with whatever you were doing now if you weren’t so fraggin’ messy. They let you keep this office—not sure why—the least you could do is keep it moderately clean.”

 

Starscream’s mouth opened, then snapped shut like one of the fish in the Earth documentaries Rodimus had seen at Swerve’s bar. Rodimus took personal delight in Starscream’s frustration, the way his wings twitched in annoyance, his lips jutted out in a small pout—gleaming with some kind of shiny polish...

 

Okay, what in the  _ pit  _ was going on with him?

 

“Okay, I’m leaving in a nanosecond if you don’t hurry.” Rodimus grumbled, feeling his plating fluff in annoyance, face oddly warm. It was stuffy in here—right? Ignoring the open balcony, it really was just stuffy in here, that was it—

 

“I’m  _ coming. _ ” Rodimus’ train of thought was broken as Starscream turned around, still sliding a thick datapad into his subspace, while balancing a few more in his arms. “And it’s not messy, there’s a  _ system _ . Plus, I have more to do every day. Maybe you’ve forgotten what datawork is like, but...”

 

“Ultra Magnus.” Rodimus corrected, and was surprised at the snort of a laugh that came from the seeker. 

 

“Right. Not sure how you dealt with that for so long.” Starscream chuckled, and it was genuine—not the usual cackle or wicked snickers Rodimus assumed Starscream was solely capable of. It surprised him just as much as it seemed to surprise Starscream, who covered his intake with a finely manicured claw and let an awkward quiet linger in the air.

 

Desperate to fill the silence, Rodimus spoke up. “One time, Magnus had me fill out forms just so I could restock solvent on the ship. I wrote ‘Well, everyone smells like shit.’ on it.” Rodimus let himself chuckle at the memory. “He was not fraggin’ happy with me.”

 

Even if he enjoyed watching Starscream flustered and annoyed, awkward silence was worse.

 

And maybe, _just maybe_ , the amused smirk Starscream was trying to hide behind his servo made sharing that story worth it.

 

—

 

The meeting was torture. It had started off alright—with Starscream explaining they wanted logs recording pit stops and any planets that had provided fuel, as well as a copy of the map Rodimus had carved onto his desk. The hope was they could find planets to trade with, or with some luck, safe mining sites to extract energon. Rodimus knew that this was going to need to be repeated to Ultra Magnus anyway, so he was only half-listening when the conflict happened.

 

Prowl had cut Starscream off mid-sentence to begin prattling off codes and regulations, as well as techniques they would have to employ to properly utilize the map—which caused Starscream to turn on him, angrily reminding him that  _ he  _ was the one currently talking, and he could explain it without Prowl’s help, thank you very much—and with that, the facade of decorum fell apart.. Prowl’s servo slammed down on the desk as he raised the other, waving it indignantly in Starscream’s face as the seeker bared his fangs, vocalizer reaching an unpleasant pitch as he spat sparks back at his antagonizer.

 

_ Primus _ , Rodimus thought. These two were unbearable enough as it was—put them together and the result was catastrophic. He half expected Prowl to smash a datapad in Starscream’s face or for the seeker to go after Prowl’s one good optic, but luckily for the room, Windblade took a stand. Rodimus watched her perfectly polished, slender arms catch both Prowl and Starscream square in the chest and push them apart with a surprising, firm strength.

 

“Not  _ again! _ ” She berated, and Rodimus reclined back in his chair, content to watch and think of the similarities between this and the fights amongst his old crew. In the early days, it wasn’t uncommon for Ultra Magnus to chime in the same way Prowl did—but Rodimus had come to expect it, almost  _ need  _ it for stability (not that he ever would admit that, or dwell on it either.)

 

Starscream reminded him of—no, Getaway wasn’t as chaotic as Starscream and his personal brand of fake charm was far too sleazy. Starscream had a hair trigger just like Whirl but a personality that didn’t match up with any of the Lost Light crew—it was something entirely unique, albeit dangerous and highly annoying. 

 

Rodimus had been around Prowl enough to know he didn’t like him, but Starscream? Once again, he realized that off the battlefield, they knew little of each other. A few encounters and then four million years of blasts to the face, stories, rumors and a general hatred of Decepticons.

 

Rodimus’ optics trailed over the brands on Starscream’s wings—the purple gone and the insignia hidden behind white and red paint. But it was still there. Just like Megatron’s true badge—smoothed down and painted with the face of the Autobots.

 

He wasn’t sure where his thoughts were taking him or what he was feeling. All he knew was that he suddenly wished Starscream had gone for Prowl’s eye.

 

It would have been funny. That’s all.

 

He came back to the present to see Windblade firmly pushing a prickling Starscream to a seat, reminding him of his  _ position— _ and it wasn’t as if Rodimus felt bad for the seeker, he just really couldn’t stand the smug look on Prowl’s face. It was truly a wonder sometimes how Prowl was only missing one optic, considering the long list of mechs he had pissed off.

 

Starscream’s optics narrowed as he caught Rodimus glancing between him and Prowl, and the young Prime knew he shouldn’t indulge the seeker--but he still found himself stifling a snort and subtly nudging his helm in Prowl’s direction with a heavy roll of his optics and a silent retching motion. After all, Starscream was unpleasant and surrounded by rumors, but Rodimus barely knew him—and that left Prowl familiar and somehow worse. Just really, really the worst. Especially after his confiscation of the Lost Light.

 

And frag, he wasn’t expecting it, but he felt an odd giddiness in his spark as Starscream covertly shielded his smirk with a servo, wings trembling with contained mirth. This was the second time today that  _ Starscream’s  _ laughter had momentarily distracted Rodimus from his miserable thoughts.

 

Primus. He was getting desperate in his loneliness.

 

He spent the rest of the meeting picking at a piece of peeling paint on the table and answering questions in between the mini arguments that kept cropping up. At some point, Prowl snarled something about “Is this how you act when Bumblebee isn’t here?” and Rodimus resisted the urge to hold up a servo in case he was splattered with energon.

 

But they made it through, in large part because Windblade ended up questioning him more than Prowl and Starscream really did. 

 

“So you said there’s a fairly accessible planet nearby with energon deposits?” Despite the sour mood of the room, her wings fluttered with hopeful excitement, and Rodimus couldn’t help but smile a little. Up until now, he’d felt like nothing more than a glorified spectator, so it was nice to feel useful.

 

“Yeah. No organic life forms besides a few skittering things here and there. Real small, scattered when we approached. Perceptor said they were more likely to be eating the minerals in the dirt than the energon.” Rodimus cocked one shoulder in a shrug. “It wasn’t a huge deposit, and we took a bit aboard the Lost Light, but there should be some left.”

 

“If it’s so close by, how did we overlook it?” Prowl questioned, crossing his arms underneath his chassis with a frown. “We have mechs specifically for scouting out energon deposits.”

 

“Probably missed it because you only have one op—“ Starscream started, and Rodimus quickly interrupted him before Prowl could do more than whip his head at him, glaring.

 

“It’s in a meteor field. Mechs probably avoided it but I...well I...figured we could take a shortcut…” Now all the optics were on him, and Rodimus threw his hands up. “Okay, I didn’t ask for the  _ judgement _ about what I did with my own ship! Plus, we found it, so that’s that.” He leaned back with pursed lips, petulantly looking around the table and readying himself for some snarky remark.

 

Fortunately, Windblade shook her head, standing taller and waving a hand as if to dismiss any negativity from the room. “You’re right, Rodimus. Our main focus right now is to gather as many resources as we can. Are you able to provide us with the coordinates?” She smiled again, but this time, it failed to improve Rodimus’ mood..

 

“I’ll have to track down Rewind, or see if Drift has a backup copy of the navigation drive—maybe take a look at our map. I’ll see what I can do.” His fingers found their way to the table again, plucking at the dangling strip of paint he had scraped off. “Are we done now?”

 

“Yes,.” Starscream declared, as Prowl simultaneously stated, “No.”

 

The snap of joints as they turned to glare daggers at each other was audible in the silence of the room. Windblade sighed _.  _ “We can take a breem.” She muttered, rubbing at her temples. Rodimus would have felt worse for her if he hadn’t just dealt with the same thing. He rose from the table with a muttered “alright,” deciding he would take that breem and just get out of here.

 

Council or not, he couldn’t take another moment of Prowl or Starscream.

 

Rodimus heard Prowl grumble something right before the doors snapped behind him and he was left in the silence of the hallway. Alone, he let himself sag—rubbing at his face as his processor tried to keep up with the swirling whirlpool of emotions within him.

 

This was his life now. The Lost Light was gone and his crew scattered, trying to form their own lives after their adventure. He wondered if anyone else felt like he did. Did Swerve struggle with a lack of purpose? Did Nautica lie awake in her berth at night, wishing to be back on that ship? Cyclonus? Brainstorm? Did any of them experience the gnawing, painful sensation that maybe they didn’t belong  _ anywhere? _

 

The part of him that strived to be better, to be a leader, hoped not.

 

But a small, selfish, miserable part of him wished he wasn’t so alone in these feelings. Suffocating—

 

“Hey.”

 

Rodimus  _ yelped. _ He spun around and swung a leg up, narrowly missing the joint of Starscream’s knee. They both stumbled back in surprise, with Rodimus wondering how the  _ frag  _ Starscream had managed to sneak up on him so quietly. He had heard the other walk before—thrusters pointedly and loudly tapping on the ground wherever Starscream strode.

 

Was that all just for show? For Primus’ sake—

 

“What do you want?!” He snapped, pulling everything—his frame and field, armor clasped tightly together—away from Starscream. Maybe it was a bit of an overreaction, but the seeker had scared the everloving scrap out of him.

 

“Calm  _ down _ . I didn’t realize how distracted you were. Then again, I suppose I can’t blame you. Prowl tends to put a certain amount of mental strain on a mech—”

 

“You  _ all _ do.” Rodimus interrupted, refusing to let Starscream try and take the higher ground here. “That meeting gave me a headache. So whatever you want to say, just say it. Pile onto the splitting seam in my helm,  _ please. _ ”

 

Starscream’s wings twitched in mild agitation, muttering a barely audible “drama queen” then following it up with “Wait, WAIT—” as Rodimus began to turn around and head out.

 

“Sorry. Look, I just wanted to ask you something. I’ll keep it simple.” Starscream crossed his arms over his chest, wings lowering in a way that  _ almost _ made him look humble.  

 

“The energon deposits you found. I know everyone has to weigh in on it—but Bee and I, we had an idea. A power distribution hub, intertwined with a ground-based and aerial transport station. We could make so much progress—”

 

“Wait. Wait, wait,  _ wait.”  _ Rodimus held up his servo, mouth turning into a frown. “What are you trying to do? Ask my opinion? I’m not on your council or whatever.”

 

“Exactly. You’re an outside party. You came back to Cybertron and are seeing it with fresh optics. You can  _ tell _ what it needs. Just like me. But I’m hardly allowed to do anything. And if we worked together—“

 

“And AGAIN,” Rodimus cut him off, ignoring Starscream’s grunt of annoyance. “I’m not on the council. I don’t  _ want _ to be on the council, and I definitely do not want to be working with you on whatever sneaky plan you’re thinking up.

 

“I’m not—” Starscream tried again, and Rodimus just waved a servo, ignoring the  _ furious _ look that crossed the seeker’s face. Fortunately, the third time was the charm, for while Starscream was visibly upset, at least he got the message and shut up.

 

“Forget whatever you’re planning. It isn’t going to work. Also? I’m not going back there. It sucks.” Rodimus took a momentary pleasure in Starscream’s surprised baulk before stepping into the glass elevator, which would take him down to the ground below.

 

“And tell everyone I’m  _ busy _ and that if they really need me, they can send a comm instead of Megatron. Bye, Starscream.” He hit the ground floor button, watching as the doors slid in front of him, obscuring Starscream and his expression.

 

His miserable expression.

 

Rodimus only hoped  _ he _ didn’t look like that.

 

—

 

A few breems later and Rodimus found himself sitting on the edge of one of the cliffs outside the city, pedes dangling over the edge as he stared out at the planetscape before him. They had something in common--one large event that had torn through them and left them changed forever. It was perhaps a bit overly dramatic, but it’s how he felt.

 

The rustling of gravel behind him alerted him to the presence of another mech, and he slowly turned his head, dreading that Prowl or someone similar had come to drag him back…

 

Fortunately, it was just Megatron, whose large pedes smashed small rocks underneath them as he approached where Rodimus was seated. The two shared a silent glance, and Megatron slowly sank his large form down, one leg stretched out and the other one bent to his chest, arm reclined over it.

 

Rodimus let the silence linger for a moment longer than he usually would before turning to Megatron. “How’d you find me?”

 

“I saw you drive by.” The older mech said, gazing in the same direction Rodimus was, over the desolate expanse of Cybertron. “And before you ask, no, I don’t know what went on. I muted my comm as soon as the complaints started. Despite what everyone likes to think, I am not here to clean up your messes.”

 

Rodimus allowed himself a little smile, but his intake felt sour and the expression bitter. He let another bout of quiet past before it became unbearable, and he turned to Megatron.

 

“There’s so much going on. I don’t even want to talk about it, but listen, I--I just--and you can’t make fun of me, but,” Rodimus swallowed heavily. “Everything feels different, doesn’t it?”

 

Megatron let out a thoughtful hum, drumming his servo against his leg. “It doesn’t feel different. It is different.”

 

Rodimus chewed on the inside of his lip. “I wasn’t expecting it to be like this.”

 

“You weren’t?” Megatron’s tone made Rodimus whip his head towards the other mech. There was a familiar firmness mixed with a dash of condescending--Megatron’s signature tone for a lecture. Megatron continued to look ahead, ignoring Rodimus’ disgruntled expression as he spoke.

 

“Because you should have. We all knew it was going to end at some point. It’s just fantasy, Rodimus, to believe something can go on forever. At least--in this timeline.” Rodimus opened his mouth to object, and Megatron raised a hand. “I won’t say anymore about that. But my point still stands. Mechs come and go and you’re left only in control of yourself. I lost an entire army. Then I lost our crew. And really, I should have lost my life.”

 

The tracking chip in his neck seemed to glow brighter as he spoke, and there was a sudden intensity to his speech, which caused Rodimus’ backstrut to prickle. “But I didn’t. And I could wallow in my own negative feelings--and perhaps I do, every now and then--or I can try and grasp whatever bit of control I have left. Make more amends. Let a mech throw something at me--yes, this has already happened--and more. And you have just as many opportunities as me--different ones, better ones.” 

 

Rodimus turned back to stare at Cybertron, gnawing on his bottom lip. Oh, how he hated when Megatron gave good advice. Especially when it made him  _ think. _

 

“I just want to go back to the Lost Light. I want to go home.”

 

“Well, you can’t. This is your home now, and whether you decide to stay here, or go somewhere else--that’s your choice. However, I think you may find more here to fix that aching spark of yours than you think.” The warlord slowly rose to his pedes with a grunt. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have someone else I must meet.”

 

Against his better judgement, Rodimus blurted out “Who?”

 

Megatron looked down at him, before allowing a small smile to slip onto his tired, lined face. “Starscream. You aren’t the only one who likes to try and isolate yourself when upset.”

 

Rodimus scowled down at the faraway ground. “Don’t compare us.”

 

“I’m merely stating facts.”

 

“Yeah, by  _ comparing. _ ” Rodimus kicked his leg at the air. “We’re nothing alike.”

 

Megatron made a noncommittal hum, and Rodimus looked at him, furrowing his eyebrows.

 

“Okay, what are you thinking?” He asked, really trying to look intimidating as he stared up at the towering Megatron.

 

Megatron shook his head. “You won’t want to hear it.”

 

“Well, now you have to tell me.” Rodimus crossed his arms, trying to raise his intimidation factor once again--but Megatron just smirked down at him.

 

“Fine. I was going to say that you two are more alike than you ever could imagine.”

 

“Bleh.  _ Gross. _ That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said.” Rodimus made a gagging noise, ignoring Megatron’s third optic roll of the day. “Me and him are like--there’s a human expression, mm, ice, oil-- _ right. _ Water and fire. That’s us.”

 

“Oh, Rodimus.” Megatron let out a rumbling laugh, one that seemed to spread the spark casing surrounding Rodimus’ core. Familiar and warm in ways he never thought he’d feel about the warlord. “Starscream is  _ anything _ but water. But I implore you, tell him that. I’m sure he’ll find it ever so funny.”

 

Rodimus had no comeback, just an annoyed sputter as Megatron turned and walked away, leaving the red mech once again alone with his thoughts. 

 

_ We’re not alike… _

 

Rodimus hoisted himself up and away from the cliff edge, brushing dirt off his thighs and giving Cybertron one last look.

 

_ And Cybertron isn’t my home. _

 

_...Is it? _

 

Rodimus suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. He turned away from the cliffside and began to transform, mentally sending a line of numbers to his internal communicator, and hearing it began to dial.

 

It rang three times as Rodimus began his trip down the bumpy road back to Cybertron, before an excited voice picked up on the other line.

 

“Rodimus?”

 

“Hey.” Rodimus replied, speeding up and relishing in the way his tires tore through the roughness of the earth. “Normally I’d drop in unannounced, but what I’m looking for--well, it’s more of a ‘closing time’ kind of thing. Mind if I drop by?”

 

He felt a little silly, but the mech on the other line still sounded enthusiastic. “You’re  _ always _ welcome here, Rodi. Although, you’ve never even been here before, so please,  _ please _ come on down. Hear that? It’s called begging.”

 

“Yeah, haha...well, thanks. I’ll see you soon, Swerve.” Rodimus hung up before the other mech could even say goodbye, wondering if this was a good idea. But he had already decided he was going to do it.

 

After all, what better place to work things out than at a bar? And with that, Rodimus made a sharp turn, heading from the center of the city towards a building that hopefully, would let him feel at home, if just for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my friends for helping me edit this.
> 
> rodistar is a super rarepair and means a lot to me so i hope you guys enjoy this series and much more i'm gonna write ..! ❤️
> 
> follow me:
> 
> https://whirljuice.tumblr.com  
> http://twitter.com/trineleader


	2. Shake on It

Swerve’s bar was small. Swerve’s bar was quiet. Swerve’s bar was pouring gasoline on the already raging fire of Rodimus’ emotions, instead of cheering him up as he’d been hoping.

 

Mostly because he was overcharged to the Pit and back.

 

“I think I’m gonna have to cut you off, Rodi. Normally I’d _love_ to let you get in—what do you call it—the “Rod Zone”, but I have to close and you look miserable.” Swerve leaned forward and tried to pluck the glass from Rodimus’s digits, but he stubbornly pulled it closer to himself, frowning.

 

“Nnnno way. This is my, my engex. An’ I’m yer Cappin—Captain and I am _orderin’_ you to leave m’drink alone.”  

 

Swerve’s visor tilted up in concern, and he made another pass at the glass, only for Rodi to clutch it even tighter. “Fine,” The minibot sighed, shaking his head. “You can keep that. But it’s your _last_ drink, Rodimus; I mean it.”

 

Rodimus let out an undignified whine, cradling the small glass in his hand like it was some kind of treasure. Swerve’s visor cycled and he was just about to give up and start cleaning when Rodimus spoke.

 

“Sweeerrrve.” Rodimus griped, reaching out a servo and waving it at the bartender. “Tell me a story. I wanna hear a story.”

 

Swerve planted both servos on his hips, shaking his head. “Trust me, with the state you’re in, you won’t remember anything I say, so I’m just going to summarize the plot of a _Friends_ episode—“

 

“No.” Rodimus groaned, one hand rubbing at the components on the side of his helm. “Not like that. Just like—y’know; stories. ‘Bout how everyone’s doin’ and stuff.”

 

Swerve’s annoyance immediately melted away and he moved forward, hopping up onto his stool and leaning over the counter, resting his head in his arms and gazing at Rodimus, who sniffed pathetically.

 

It was a sad sight, Swerve thought. “You want to know how everyone is doing? Man, where do I even begin?”

 

Rodimus tapped the side of his glass, blue optics dim and miserable. “Cyclonus and Tailgate?” The drunken mech questioned, bleary gaze traveling up to meet Swerve’s visor.

 

Swerve gave him a little smile, reaching under the bar to grab a glass, which he began to polish vigorously. “Off-planet. I think they’re looking to live somewhere besides Cybertron. Cyclonus doesn’t like it here and it all felt foreign to Tailgate, so—new beginnings! Tailgate’s been sending me some pictures of potential housing and _wow,_ they’re fancy.”

 

Rodimus mumbled into his drink, “They’re smart to get away from this place.”

 

Swerve shrugged. “They’re just glad to be alive, y’know? Meanwhile, Chromedome and Rewind are off the grid right now—just spending a lot of time in their own home. They never actually update their social media anymore so you know… Hey, did you know Nautica is writing a book about the Lost Light? I asked if she was gonna interview me, and she laughed! Come on, I think I’d provide some excellent commentary!”

 

Rodimus half-heartedly listened to Swerve prattle on about his hopes for Nautica’s autobiography...how Brainstorm and Perceptor came to the bar together sometimes...how Bluestreak was doing this and First Aid was doing that... 

 

Everyone seemed to be moving on.

 

Everyone but him.

 

Rodimus didn’t notice the wetness streaking down his cheeks until Swerve’s alarmed noise broke him out of his headspace. His fingers went up to touch the solvent on his cheeks, and he felt his face burn in embarrassment.

 

“Rodimus, are you okay? I really, really think you’re not okay. Give me that engex, come on…!”

 

Rodimus let out a hysterical little noise, scrubbing at his cheek with one servo as he tilted the drink with the other and chugged it. He slammed it down, feeling his processor whirl with the sudden rush. 

 

“Oh, Primus. Hey, Mags, Mags!!” He heard Swerve yell, and it didn’t process who he was calling until Rodimus felt a large, firm servo grip his shoulder.

 

The room was still spinning, but as he looked up at Ultra Magnus, he somehow focused on every single line of worry etched onto his former third-in-command’s face. He felt small, helpless and lost. He reached out to grab Magnus’ servo—feeling those strong fingers curl around his own, a moment of grounding.

 

And that was the last bit of clarity for the night.

 

The rest faded away with only bits and pieces sticking out. Being carried away in warm, strong arms. His name whispered with concern. The cool sheets of his berth touching his overcharged, heated frame.

 

At some point in the night he rolled over and purged into a bucket left by the berth. Blurry optics glanced up and saw a small cube of low-grade sitting on the nightstand.

 

He reached out with trembling hands, took it and sipped, trying to keep the contents of his fuel tank down. Exhausted and feeling a flurry of emotions, he did what anyone would do when overcharged and emotional.

 

He drunk texted.

 

He drunk texted _Starscream._

 

>R: heehy ive been sriking

>R: drinkintf

>R: i can spell

>R: wow i am dizzy oh frag oh frag

>R: why did i trxt you oh right okay so i said fick it. frag it.

>R: lets do yur idea. the energy thing with the flight and the roads n stfuffffffff

>R: :) :) gonna make prowl so pissed lol

>R: you and me pretty boyvwere going to make him so pissed dual effort

>R: im gonna purgedx agin

>R: im back i did ok i gotta recha

>R: rrrrrrrrrrrrerrrrnddn

 

Fuel tank swirling and optics fluttering with a drunken sleepiness, Rodimus let the phone fall from his servo as recharge swept heavily over him.

—

 

The next morning, Rodimus woke up with one hell of a processor ache and a heavy blanket of guilt sitting on his shoulders. He blearily recalled Ultra Magnus having to tote his sorry aft home, and then—

 

“Oh, _frag._ ” He groaned, snatching his phone and then immediately regretting it as the bright light from the screen flashed at him like a knife through his helm.

 

After fumbling to turn down the screen brightness, he saw what he had feared—that the texts sent last night hadn’t been a bad dream. He couldn’t even read them all. The second hand embarrassment from overcharged Rodimus made him cringe.

 

He scrolled through the rest quickly and saw that there was no answer. Only the small checkmark to let him know that they had been seen.

 

Oh, _frag._

 

It took him a good cycle to get out the door, and longer than usual to reach the Council Building due to slow driving from the massive hangover that clouded his processor. He could have sworn he hadn’t had that much to drink last night, but then again, he’d been...a little sad. 

 

Okay, a _lot_ sad. Sighing heavily, he slowly transformed out of his vehicle mode in front of the building and resigned himself to the throb that pulsed through his processor every time he climbed a step.

 

“Rodimus!” Windblade was already marching towards him before he had even fully made his way through the door. Her wings were hitched high, twitching with agitation. Rodimus held up a servo, flinching away as he rubbed his temples.

 

“Lower the voice. ‘M begging you. I have a killer processor ache.” Rodimus groaned.

 

Windblade’s mouth was a thin line as she took a moment, wings shuddering with her deep invent. When she spoke, it was quieter, but Rodimus didn’t miss the edge to her tone. “Starscream came into my office today claiming you’re funneling your found energon resources into _his_ rebuilding project?” 

 

Rodimus scrubbed a servo down his face, silence lingering in the air as his processor tried to work through the hangover. He could explain to Windblade how it was all a mistake, that it was hardly a _promise_ and of course he was going to happily hand the reins over to her and Prowl, letting them do whatever they wanted with his findings while he sat contentedly on the sidelines.

 

Or, he could be an impulsive fragger.

 

“I did, actually.” He drew his servo away from his face and caught Windblade’s horrified expression. Yeesh. “He approached me last night, laid out the idea—“

 

“While you were drinking?” Windblade cut him off, folding her arms as she gave Rodimus a look of pure disapproval. “You’re aware Starscream isn’t even an official member of the Council, correct? He can’t just throw around ideas, take what he wants without at _least_ going through Bumblebee first.”

 

Her agitated tone made this feel all too much like a lecture to Rodimus, and he echoed the disgruntled crossing of arms. “Yeah, well. You guys certainly didn’t make me feel like I had a choice on what to do with what me and my crew found. Kind of felt like I was just handing it all over to you and Prowl.”

 

Windblade’s brows knitted together in strained concern. “It’s not for _us_ , Rodimus. It’s for Cybertron and the mechs on it—for the good of our planet.”

 

“Well, maybe Starscream’s plans for it are too.” Rodimus replied, realizing his stubbornness was leading him to defend _Starscream_ of all mechs. But it was too late to back down. Ever since he arrived back on this planet…

 

“I feel cornered. Kind of useless, honestly—and deciding what to do with the found energon gives me a chance to figure out how I want to help Cybertron.” Rodimus crossed his arms, fixing Windblade’s frazzled look with a petulant, yet firm one of his own. “So fight or arrest me or whatever—“

 

“We can’t _arrest you_.” Windblade said, tone slightly weary as she rubbed at her face.

 

“Well, I don’t know that! This is Prowl we’re talking about, maybe he’s already got a monogrammed pair of stasis cuffs with him!” Rodimus replied, turning away from Windblade and rubbing his own face, because his processor was still pounding.

 

“Rodimus, can we _please_ at least sit and talk about—“

 

“No!” Rodimus snapped, feeling more and more like a disgruntled mechling but too agitated to care. “No meetings. In fact, I already have a meeting.”

 

He quickly fired off a text through commlinks.

 

_Rodimus: >Starscream _

 

_meet me at swerves bar in a cycle to discuss plans_

 

Windblade was saying something, trying to appeal to his heroic side, when he got the reply;

 

_Starscream: >Rodimus _

 

_Alright._

 

Looking back, maybe he could have said goodbye, could have at least listened to Windblade’s pleas for a little longer. Maybe he left too fast, despite the processor ache.

 

It wasn’t like he was lowkey excited or anything. 

 

No, he just wasn’t thinking straight...

 

—-

 

“Rodimus, you’re my favorite Captain ever—and I really mean that—but why’d you have to meet Starscream _here_?”

 

“Because I like your bar.” Rodimus replied, shooting Swerve one of his winning grins.

 

“Flattery, huh?” Swerve couldn’t help but grin back. “Just don’t let him try and trick you, ‘kay Rodi?”

 

Rodimus snorted, cupping his chin in his hands. “Please, you insult me. After dealing with Getaway, I think I can handle anyone.”

 

Swerve was proud of himself for resisting the urge to comment on the fact that Rodimus had dealt with Getaway  _after_ being tricked.

But if either mech was about to say anything, the words died on their glossas as Starscream arrived.

 

His thrusters steadily tapped on the floor as he swayed in to a barrage of dirty looks from every corner of the building. The seeker ignored them all, hips swaying and poise perfect as he sauntered towards the two mechs by the bar. Rodimus forced himself to look away, choosing instead to turn to Swerve, mouthing ‘wish me luck.’ Swerve gave him a double thumbs up and watched as Rodimus stood up from the bar, and walked over until he was just a foot or two away from Starscream.

 

Rodimus could feel the optics of everyone in the bar trained on them.

 

“I have to say, it’s surprising they let you walk around without a tracking chip.” Rodimus commented wryly.

 

Starscream scoffed. “Cute you think that. Of course they chipped me. I just don’t wear it around my neck like a guilty martyr, unlike _some_ mechs.”

 

Rodimus felt his tanks twist with several unpleasant emotions at the remark, but he pushed them deep, deep down for the sake of civility, refusing to think about Megatron.

 

“Let’s find a booth.” He realized his denta were clenched and rolled his glossa around his mouth to loosen it all up, while releasing the tension in his shoulders with a half-shrug. Starscream had barely been here for a minute and he was somehow already getting under Rodimus’ plating.

 

He caught Swerve still giving him a thumbs up and flashed the minibot a little grin before sliding into the booth. Starscream gave it a wary look before sliding in as well, and Rodimus realized what his hesitation is for. The generous swell of his cockpit and pronounced chest meant some booths most likely trapped him in. Luckily, Swerve was used to serving all kinds of frametypes, so the seeker was able to slide in with ease. He situated himself, flickering his wings until he was comfortable, and folded his servos neatly on the table in front of him.

 

 _Seekers are so fidgety. You can watch them for hours and they just never sit still._ Rodimus thought, and flickered his gaze from Starscream’s wings, which were drifting up and down with nervous energy.

 

He cleared his vocalizer. “So.” He began, unsure where to start.

 

Starscream lifted a brow at him. “So. You wanted to talk about the flights and roads and…” He made quotation marks with his claws. “Stuffffff.”

 

Rodimus felt a sudden urge to slap him. He leaned back in his chair with a grumble, crossing his arms. “Oh, stuff it. I had been drinking.”

 

“Well, obviously. I hope that isn’t how you normally talk.” Starscream scoffed. “But that does beg the question: If you were overcharged, how do I know you’re serious about all this?”

 

Rodimus looked down, tracing an unknown pattern on his arm as replied. “Well...because I already told Windblade.”

 

Out of the corner of his optic, he saw Starscream perk up. “Told Windb—told her what?”

 

Rodimus traced the circle more furiously before uncrossing his arms, fingers searching for something to fiddle with. There was a straw just out of reach—

 

Before he could make a fool out of himself attempting to get the straw—or Primus forbid, start another war—Starscream plucked it out of the holder and offered it to him.

 

Rodimus was surprised at the gesture, but his relief at having something to fiddle with far outweighed any need to dissect Starscream’s ulterior motives. He slid the straw back and forth between his fingers, feeling all his thoughts fall into place as he twirled the metal and let it _tap tap tap_ against the table.  

 

“I told her I wasn’t happy with how I immediately got dragged into some meeting where I was basically ordered to hand over all the coordinates and resources we found to someone else who hadn’t put in any of the work.” He rolled the straw between his palms as he continued. “And it isn’t because I don’t want to help Cybertron; I genuinely do, but I don’t want mechs who I barely know or who never supported my quest in the first place trying to reap the rewards. It’s...it’s not—“

 

“It’s not theirs.” Starscream finished for him, resting the side of his helm in his palm.

 

“No, it’s not. And let me make it clear—it isn’t _yours_ either.” Rodimus jabbed the straw at Starscream. “It’s mine and my crew’s and we’ll decide how to use it! And I’m making the first decision—I want to support this power hub. I think it’s a good idea.”

 

Starscream’s optics glowed alongside his smirk. “That’s because it _is_ a good idea.”

 

Rodimus reset his optics. “Please don’t make me regret this just a few minutes in.”

 

Starscream, surprisingly, stayed silent, with only a wave of his servo to indicate that Rodimus should keep going.

 

Rodimus continued. “I’m not sure how this all will go, if we have to get it approved or _what_ but I do know there’s plenty of stuff I can provide, and I’m willing to test out this idea. _One_ idea with you, Starscream, and if it goes well, we can move on from there.”

 

Starscream’s narrowed optics brightened at this statement, and he threw his servos out with a flourish, looking beyond pleased. 

 

“Trust me when I say this, Rodimus. Our power distribution hub will do for Cybertron what your quest did for _history._ And more. You’re making the right choice.”

 

 _Primus_ , Rodimus thought. This whole conversation already felt tense and awkward—sitting across the booth from Starscream—but the forced flattery was the metaphorical—what was it? Cherry on the cake? Whatever.

 

“Knock it off, Starscream.” He muttered, flipping his straw back and forth between two pinched fingers. “You don’t have to try and win me over, especially with a piss-poor attempt like that.”

 

Starscream’s eyes narrowed, until they were just nasty little slits that Rodimus wanted to throw the straw at. 

 

“Fine. Then I guess we’re done here?” The seeker questioned, already starting to rise.

 

Rodimus ignored the weird little twang that told him to stay. For what? “Yeah. We’re done.”

 

“Then I’ll be in contact.” Starscream shuffled out from the booth, and then—Rodimus would never, ever forget the flash of _pain_ on Starscream’s face, it was too funny—the seeker stuck out his servo to shake.

 

Rodimu stared at it, realized he was in an open bar and it was worth the risk, and he grabbed Starscream’s servo and firmly shook it.

 

The scent of Starscream’s polish—warm and smelling like a hot oil bath—hit his nose. It wasn’t bad at all...

 

“...Thank you.” Starscream said, quiet and suddenly looking embarrassed. He pulled the servo away, and a talon went straight to his mouth, where he began to nibble at it before finally lifting his gaze again. “I’ll notify you when the next meeting will be.” 

 

All of this was mumbled around his little finger bites, even with his intent stare, and Rodimus looked down at the straw in his hand—played with until it was all bent out of shape—and realized he now knew why Starscream had gotten him that straw so quickly.

 

He allowed himself the tiniest smile. “Yeah, well; no problem. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” And without another word, he strode past Starscream—waving cheerfully at Swerve, who had been ‘inconspicuously’ watching the whole time. Minimus was there as well, and both their heads snapped at Rodimus as he walked past. 

 

He’d talk to them later. Right now, he felt...pretty alright. Maybe not great or amazing. But it was the first good feeling he’d had since being back on Cybertron.

 

He inhaled in satisfaction and realized that the smell of Starscream’s polish was still in his nose. Something in his tanks twisted, but he pushed it down.

 

It was fine. Nothing to worry about. Now, he just needed to focus. Step one was done. Step two?

 

Help this place he used to call home.

  
  



End file.
